“Go ahead. Sweet talk me.” He laughed before kissing her gently. “I am just going to miss you, that’s all.”
“Me too.”
She was saved from giving in to the tears gathering behind her eyes by the arrival of the limo and the jostling of luggage. She was waving goodbye before she knew it, and in the quiet interior of the car she had time to let her mind wander and to review the last few days. Charlotte was grateful someone else was left dealing with the heavy, stop and go traffic.
Alex had returned from L.A. in a fantastic mood, although he refused to tell her why. “The business went really well,” was all he offered despite a myriad of questions from her. It rankled her that he shared so little since he asked for details about her work all the time. When she pointed this out to him, they argued. Then they fought repeatedly about her trip to Boston. The worse battle had come when they tried discussing Charlotte breaking the lease on her apartment.
It had been almost three months since Charlotte had moved in with Alex after the incident in the park. The only things left at her apartment were some dishes and her out-of-season clothes. She had moved her few pieces of furniture and found places for the beat up antiques within the modern décor of Alex’s place. The closets held her clothes, the drawers held her underwear. They now shared the bathroom equally. Her books filled his shelves and her pots filled his kitchen. He had converted the back bedroom into an office for her, assuring that the WIFI connection was strong there and installing a dedicated land line for the phone.
Alex kept repeating that they were living together and she should just pay the penalty to be released early from her lease. She said she was just staying there for a while, insisting that she wanted the ability to go back home again. She knew she was denying the truth. He had converted a room to an office, for heaven’s sake. She had moved all her belongings. She was just fooling herself. When he pointed these out to her, a huge argument had ensued, their biggest to date.
“Just admit that you live here,” he had demanded, after several dead-end discussions on the subject.
“But I don’t live here,” she had countered. “We never discussed my moving in or anything. I am just here because of circumstances.”
“Do you really believe that?” She could see that Alex was hurt by her statement. “Why do you need to keep one foot in that other world? Why can’t you commit to this? To us? I have.”
She understood his logic. She loved the relationship and his willingness to commit to her, but she also knew that she had to tell him who she really was, where she really came from. Until she did that, she could not be sure he would really want to live with her. She would no longer be the rich, important Charlotte. She needed to know that Alex could love the poor, working-class Charlotte and the lying Charlotte. But she couldn’t tell him that yet. Instead, she gave him excuses even she could see were feeble; then they clashed.
That recurring argument spilled over, tainting everything. Soon they were fighting about what to have for dinner, what to watch on TV. Everything. Alex’s post-California high was gone, replaced by a tense and frustrated mood. She knew she was hurting him, confusing and disappointing him, but Charlotte needed a little more time. She had committed to telling Regan the truth before the New Year. After that, she risked that Regan would hear it from Gil instead.
Charlotte was glad to be getting out of town. She needed to do something about Gil so she could tell the truth. She was losing sleep, filled with trepidation whenever she went out. It was hurting her work and damaging her relationship. Charlotte made herself a promise to move up her timetable and reveal everything before Christmas.
“Just until Christmas, Alex. After all,” she teased, trying to lighten the mood a bit the last time they had argued over the lease, “I’ll need a good place to hide presents.”
“Like this place isn’t big enough,” he had responded sarcastically. But he dropped the subject, at least for a while. Back in the present, Charlotte tried to lay out a plan for her big reveal while the limo inched forward in traffic. Each idea had a flaw that stopped her and when she alighted from the limo a full hour later, she was no closer to an answer.
Gil was disregarding the court order to stay away, calling more frequently and showing up outside her office. She wondered where he was getting the money to fly back and forth so often, but she would not engage with him to ask. She tried to ignore him, hanging up or walking away, but he was getting more persistent and, she feared, more desperate. Charlotte knew that a desperate Gil would be more aggressive, more dangerous.
At least all his actions had allowed her to stop sneaking around. It was obvious he knew how to find her so she decided to take advantage of it where she could. She was thrilled to be flying home for the holiday. A few days with her burly brothers would give her some security. They would help her work out a plan, once and for all.
That encouraging thought allowed Charlotte to relax and she fell asleep on the plane. It felt like only an instant passed before the hard bounce of the wheels hitting the tarmac jarred her awake.
Home. I am home.
Charlotte was wearing an enormous grin when she passed the security guard and looked amongst the waiting crowd for a familiar face. Although she had just seen them, she was thrilled to find both her brothers waiting for her. Holding her in tight bear hugs and covering her face with kisses, Don grabbed her luggage, and they moved through the Thanksgiving crowds toward a full parking lot.
Charlotte was so happy to see them that she didn’t even complain when they were parked in the far corner of the big lot, or when they got off 195 and took back roads to avoid the traffic. She was happy to look at the familiar scenery and catch up with the siblings she adored.
“We are going to eat like pigs tomorrow,” Don promised. “I have been planning this menu for weeks.” The conversation turned to stuffing recipes for the rest of the journey and soon she was inhaling the smell of sweet bread that permeated the house. The kitchen counter was buried under tantalizing desserts that Charlotte craved right now. She could almost taste everything as she crossed the well-worn carpet of the living room straight into her mother’s full-bosomed embrace.
“Carlotta, Carlotta,” Luzia sighed as if she had not seen her in years, “I love having my baby girl home with me.”
“Mama, it smells so good in here,” Charlotte ignored the guilt-trip and hugged her mother in return. “What have you been baking today?”
“Everything, of course, but now you are here, you can help.”
Energized by her family and home, Charlotte happily took her spot in the crowded kitchen, measuring and kneading amongst the family banter. Tonight they would eat delivery pizza, the kitchen was not fit for anything else. But tomorrow would be a feast.
Her family would host aunts and uncles who had followed her parents, immigrating from the small towns around Porto, looking for a better life. Most, like her parents, were hard working and middle class but thanks to her father’s success, they were all moving up economically. Two of her relatives were managers at the factory and her cousin, a recent Johnson and Wales graduate, would be joining her brother in the kitchens after the new year. Cousins were working in the offices or the factories and she even had young cousins hurrying to get driver’s licenses so that they could drive the delivery trucks. It was a family business in the truest sense of the word, although in the last year they had swelled to over 300 employees.
It had only been six years since her brother had come up with his brilliant idea to take her father’s bakery items, famous throughout the neighborhood, build up some capital and then expand to internet sales. Rocha Bakery had ballooned into Rocha Specialty foods quickly and then a parent company, Old World Foods, was formed. Now they were shipping her father’s famous sweet bread and pastries to 22 countries, along with other delicacies.
Don’s role would be to continue her father’s legacy with old-world inspired recipes of his own. He had been experimenting with his mother’s soups this
past week and they bragged to Charlotte that they had figured out how to flash freeze them for shipping. The celebrating was premature, but Charlotte knew her brother would succeed. Jake was a business wizard, but Don was an even greater chef.
Charlotte settled into her childhood room, with its faded quilt and even more faded wallpaper, and caught her breath before dinner. She was overwhelmed by the noise and bustle of her family. The quarters were close, they lived on top of each other in the three-bedroom, one bathroom house. Her father had paid to add a second bath since she had moved out, a master bath that had pleased her mother beyond its worth. Her brother had moved out, but only to the top floor apartment. She was used to quiet these days, living in that big space with Alex, but once her nerves adjusted, she loved hearing the voices and chaos of home.
Not exactly a Beacon Hill Thanksgiving. Wouldn’t Alex laugh now?
Charlotte mumbled under her breath as she hung up the jeans and t-shirts she had packed. Alex had stood over Charlotte while she had packed a bag of dresses, wool trousers and cashmere sweaters but the moment he had left the room she had tossed all of that in the back of the closet where he wouldn’t find it and packed her ankle boots, running shoes, jeans and pullover sweaters. Her family would have laughed her out of Rhode Island if she had worn a dress around them.
“Wanna go for a run before dinner?” Don asked after knocking lightly on the doorframe and sticking his nose into the room. “I need to work off Mom’s lunch; you missed a great meal by the way.”
“Count me in,” Charlotte accepted with her broad smile. “Just give me five minutes to change. But remember, I am a newbie on this ankle.”
“Excuses, excuses,” her brother tossed over his back.
Fifteen minutes later, Charlotte was wheezing lightly, trying to keep up with Don’s moderate pace.
“Jeez, Char, you really are out of shape,” he said, not unkindly. “When’s the last time you ran?”
“It’s been a while, but it’s the hills. Chicago is flat as a pancake. Even these little hills are killing me. I am not used to them anymore.”
Don slowed down and waited, jogging in place, as his sister caught up, then he dropped to a slightly slower pace. Charlotte fell in with him easily and soon they were running and talking comfortably. When they had exhausted the history of her brother’s last semester at school and Charlotte’s job, Don cut to the chase.
“Okay, Char. First, who is the guy and second, what the hell are you going to do about Gil? You need to get rid of him once and for all.”
“I thought I had,” Charlotte replied, “but he keeps turning back up.”
“We’ll get to him,” Don commanded. “You can’t avoid this anymore. Give me the scoop on the guy first.”
“Who said there is a guy?” Charlotte stalled.
“I did, Carlotta. I have known you too long. You have only had that moon-eyed, far away look once before.”
“And we know how that turned out.”
“It was a long time ago, Char, and obviously, you are finally over it. Do you trust this guy? Are you safe with him?”
“How sad is it that the first thing you have to ask is if Alex keeps me safe? He does, Don. Very safe.”
“Alex. Okay, he has a name.”
“He does indeed. Alexander J. Gaines. Banker. Mid-30’s. Successful. Generous. Handsome. Funny. Runner. Swimmer. Smart. Sexy. Very sexy.” Charlotte said between breaths. “You’d like him. He can’t boil water.”
“From Chicago?” her brother asked, laughing easily as Charlotte again labored for breaths. She vowed to get back in shape and soon.
“Yes. He has a sister there. I just went to her wedding, remember?”
“Some political blowout, yeah, I remember. You love him?”
“Well, let’s not get there slowly.”
“Why waste time?”
“I think I might,” Charlotte admitted.
“Catholic?”
“That’s enough, Mama.”
“Well, is he?”
“We have never discussed it, actually, but I don’t think it would be a problem. He is Episcopalian.”
“Okay, we’ll leave that alone for now. Does he love you?”
“He might, Don. Oh god, I hope he does. I am falling hard.” Charlotte stopped running to give her brother a desperate look.
“How could he not love you, Carlotta? You are brilliant, beautiful and you have a kind heart.”
“Spoken like a perfect loving brother,” Charlotte leaned in, kissing her brother on the cheek. “Let’s turn back, please, before I drop like a stone right here in the street.”
The pair slowed to a walk as they turned and headed back toward home. The neighborhood felt unchanged to Charlotte, as if she was walking home from Girl Scouts or the numerous after school activities that had helped her win a scholarship to Harvard. Her life was so different now, but she had loved this life too.
“So, if you want to be with this Alex guy, you have got to get rid of Gilberto.”
“I know, believe me, I know. I have told him for years that we are finished. Most guys would have taken the hint long before now. I have asked him to stay away, and after last year, well, you know. But he doesn’t leave me alone. I am sick of hiding. Besides, he is like a bloodhound. He finds me anyway.”
“We could ask Papa’s family…”
“Don’t even joke about that, Don. Not even a little.”
“No one heard me, Char. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t even know about any of that.”
“Give me a break, Char. I am not a two year old.”
“You are still my baby brother, though, and safer not knowing any of that.”
“Did you tell Alex?” Don asked, ignoring his sister’s admonishment. “Did you tell Alex anything yet?”
“Nothing. How can I?”
“Charlotte, if you love this man, how can you not?”
Stepping into the overwarm house, Charlotte kicked off her shoes, yanked off her sweaty socks and wandered down the hall to the kitchen and the sound of voices and merriment.
“Good run?” Jake queried.
“Very good,” Charlotte answered. “But now I am starved.”
“No problem. We ordered pizza as soon as you left. It should be here any minute. You two barely have time for a shower.”
“I go first,” Don announced, disappearing down the corridor.
“Leave me some hot water,” Charlotte shouted to his retreating back.
“Who wants wine?” her father held the bottle high above his head, shaking it lightly to catch his family’s attention. Everyone said yes and soon they were pouring and passing glasses and toasting to the family, to a sweet life and to each other. Her father moved about the room bestowing wet and noisy kisses on the cheeks of his wife and children.
Charlotte’s brother, Jake, did the same, moving carefully through the crowded space. Don returned, hair dripping, and Charlotte ran to change before the pizza arrived. She was just emerging from the steamy bathroom, clad only in a towel, when the doorbell rang.
“Pizza” they cried out in joy as Jake went to answer the door. Charlotte ducked back into the bathroom until the delivery person was gone, then threw on clean clothes and ran for the dining room.
“Is there anything left?” she joked, grabbing a slice as she moved into her usual seat.
“We waited to say grace with you, Carlotta,” her mother scolded. Charlotte dropped the pizza to her plate as if it scorched her fingers and bowed her head.
The family devoured the pepperoni and vegetable pizzas oozing with cheese and cut into squares. Something they have in common, Providence and Chicago. Pizza in square slices.
The meal was gone in what felt like moments, but the family sat around the table sipping wine and then coffee, sharing stories and enjoying their time together for another two hours.
No one was paying attention when Don bent close to refill Charlotte’s cup and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You need t
o fix this, Carlotta. And you need to tell Alex. Tell him soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The sedate Thanksgiving dinner at the Gaines’ home was as different from the boisterous event in Rhode Island as two dinners could be. The conversation swirled around stories from the honeymoon and planning for their upcoming ski trips. There were no raised voices, no controversies, and by prior agreement, no politics. It was polite and controlled…
…and boring.
Alex sat in the understated luxury of his parents’ dining room listening to the quiet clink of sterling silver on fine porcelain and longed for Charlotte. Even a fight with her right now would be preferable to this staid and proper dinner. He missed her. The excitement went out of a room without her in it. Even this experience could have been fun, if he could have looked across at her and rolled his eyes. It would have been fun rehashing everything with her later too, but not long distance. Their conversations were stilted and confined. He needed her home.
Bedeviled (Beguiling Bachelors Book 3) Page 24